Page 15 of Distress Signal

Lainey dropped onto the couch and reached for my hand. “I’m going to be fine.”

“I wish you’d at least stay at the motel where there’s some security.”

Now my sister rolled her eyes. “That place has about as much security as a paper bag,” she quipped.

“Hey, they could’ve upgraded since we were there last.”

“I’m camping, and that’s the end of it.”

Lainey had that look in her eye that told me no amount of pressing the issue would change her mind. She’d dug her feet in and planted roots. There’d be no moving her.

That deep-seated stubbornness was a quality—like many others—we had in common.

“You have your SAT phone?” I asked.

She dug into her bag and withdrew the black, boxy device. Thanks to that trip seven years ago, and numerous ones closer to home since, we knew the signal out in the wilderness was dicey. While I enjoyed the occasional camping and hiking trip, my sister had a habit—more like a penchant—for going off the grid when the voices in her head got a little too loud. I’d purchased the phone for her a few years ago when she disappeared for three days without a word, leaving me with a mountain’s worth of worry.

I didn’t judge her for it. Goddesses knew there had been days when I’d take off on the road with nothing but my camera and the desire to find a sliver of peace and quiet away from my own demons.

But she was the only family I had left, and I wouldn’t survive if something happened to her.

Lainey zipped her bag after returning the phone to the disorganized mix of clothes and toiletries. In contrast to the haphazard jumble of her duffel, next to it, her camera bag with all of its equipment was neatly packed.

Then she faced me, one hand on her hip, the other raised, fingers folding over her palm. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“The big sister lecture you always give me before I take off like this. Even if you are only five minutes older,” she added with an eye roll.

I snorted. “If you know it’s coming, you should remember it from all the times I’ve given it before.”

“Humor me.”

Shifting slightly on the couch, though every bone and muscle in my body protested, I reached out and clasped her cheeks in my hands. Most people never got to see their face with their own eyes, but I found mine in Lainey every day. The same green eyes, same naturally honey-blonde hair, the same mouth—though hers had a small white scar cutting through her top lip thanks to a bar fight with a sorority girl in college.

The same girl my ex had cheated on me with.

Lainey had always had my back, and now I would have hers.

“Be careful. I know you’re a pro at this, but if something feels off, you bail. Get a hotel room. Ask for help.” I stressed that last one with a playful tug on her hair. “There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”

“I know.”

Lainey was the most free-spirited, independent woman I’d ever known. I was the more careful of the two of us, the level head. The planner. The worrier.

But Lainey was a grown woman, and I had to trust she could take care of herself.

I hauled her to me even though I ached, hugging her tightly, not wanting to let go.

I couldn’t explain why, but I was more anxious than I’d ever been for her to leave.

“I’m going to be fine,” she said with a laugh, eventually pulling back from my embrace after I allowed it to drag on longer than normal.

As she did, a car beeped outside—her ride to the airport.

“I know,” I sighed. “You have everything?”

“Yep.”